


Orpheus was a Muse's Boy

by ladymidnight721



Series: Exploring the world of Hadestown [2]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hadestown - Mitchell, Hadestown - Mitchell (Broadway) RPF
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Hadestown, Origin Story, Other, Parental Hermes (Hadestown)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymidnight721/pseuds/ladymidnight721
Summary: This was never supposed to happen, she was never supposed to conceive. Now that the child is born, he must be passed on to other hands, lest Calliope and her husband face ruin.Basically, this is the story of how Orpheus became an orphan. The reason I came up with is that Calliope (who is often depicted as his mother) is under severe financial strain and cannot keep a child alive with her resources, so she gives her son up to an Olympian, who she knows will keep him safe and healthy.
Relationships: Calliope/Oeagrus, Hermes & Orpheus (Hadestown)
Series: Exploring the world of Hadestown [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129532
Kudos: 11





	Orpheus was a Muse's Boy

The piercing cries of a newborn child filled the tiny bedroom. Calliope weakly lifted her head from her pillow to see her husband holding their baby, his face a mixture of wonder, relief, sadness, and fear.

“It’s a son,” he said, his voice tense and monotone. He slowly made his way around from the foot of the bed to Calliope’s side, holding the babe out for her.

She wordlessly took the child from him, instinctually pressing him to her breast. As the boy began to feed, she looked him over for any issues. He looked healthy, with soft, round features and huge brown eyes. At any other time, Calliope would be rejoicing at the birth of a healthy and handsome son, but instead her heart was filled with grief. Calliope raised her eyes, looking around at the decrepit room in her decrepit house.

After the stocks fell years ago, no one had any time or money for poetry and stories, and so Calliope was out of a job, and she and her husband fell into poverty. While Calliope, an immortal goddess, could not die of starvation, cold, or disease, her mortal husband can. So all of their resources went to keeping her husband, sweet Oeagrus, alive. There was no way they could keep a child healthy and alive in their present condition. And, for a long time, they thought they never would have a child. All her life, Calliope had believed that she could never conceive a child with a mortal. Obviously, that was a lie.

And that lie had led to the innocent baby lying in her arms. Calliope met Oeagrus’ eyes, and found that he was crying. With a sharp pain in her chest, she realized that their son had Oeagrus’ eyes.

“He… he is beautiful,” he whispered. His eyes were transfixed on the baby, still unnamed, starting to fall asleep in Calliope’s embrace. Calliope herself felt a lump start to form in his throat; the child _was_ beautiful, and it was a shame that he was born into a life such as this.

What they wouldn’t give to raise this child as he should, not knowing that his cousins were abandoned soon after birth to the wild, only knowing the love and security of his home and family. But the empty cabinets in the kitchen reminded them that such a dream was never meant to be. They would never know their son, and he would never know them, for they both knew that if he were to live, he would have to leave their lives.

Tears began to spill from Calliope’s eyes as well as her son slept blissfully on her chest. She had written many poems and stories about the love of a mother and her son, but had never fully understood it until this moment. If she were not immortal, she was certain that the grief of parting with him would kill her. And yet, it still must happen.

Holding the child gently, so she wouldn’t wake him, she slowly rose and made her way to the telephone in the hallway. Oeagrus followed her, staying close to her back as if guarding the boy. With one hand, Calliope dialed the number for an old friend, someone who had promised the world once for her, and had, a few months ago, promised the world for her child.

~~~~~

The train tracks were quiet that night, much quieter than it had been in a while. Hades had been sending more and more mortals to his factories, meaning the trains were running more than usual. The pause in Hade’s funeral trains were a comfort this night.

And for a time of poverty and pollution, it was a beautiful night. Zephyr used their northern breath to cool the concrete and steel all around them, and the city lights seemed dimmer, revealing a few stars in the Great Bear constellation. It was peaceful, and almost made one forget the starvation, poverty, and pain that surrounded them.

It was on this night that Hermes, the gods’ great messenger and owner of the railroad, stood under the light of the streetlamps, waiting for two friends, an old one and a new one. While the challenge being presented to him was not a new one, he had raised many of the gods’ bastard children, raising a half-mortal would be new and interesting.

Hermes kept his eyes on the street corner, waiting for Calliope to appear. As a trainmaster, he was supposed to be a stickler for time, but as the god of mischief, he knew that some things deserved more (or less) time. And Calliope deserved as much time as she wanted to take.

But as the thoughts entered his mind, Calliope appeared silently from around the corner, a bundle of tattered blankets in her arms. Her eyes were red, and she walked with a heaviness in her step.

“Calliope,” Hermes said gently. “I would say that it’s good to see you again, but…” he let his words trail off.

Calliope nodded in return, and handed over the blankets to Hermes. “I’ve already said my goodbyes,” she said softly, pain clear in her voice.

Hermes took the child, opening the blankets to see the sleeping baby boy. “Does he have a name?” he asked.

“Orpheus,” Calliope murmured. “It seemed to fit him well.”

They stood there for a few moments, almost as if Calliope was trying to prolong the inevitable.

“Hermes,” she said, a serious look on her face. “I want… if he ever asks about me, or his father, tell him…” she took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “Tell him that we abandoned him. Like my sisters abandoned their children.”

Hermes raised an eyebrow. “Why? It would be kinder for him to know that his parents loved him.”

“I won’t answer that,” she replied. “It’s just my decision.”

Hermes nodded, not understanding, but willing to agree. “Fine then. I’ll tell him that.”

Calliope sighed, her shoulders slumping. Whether it was relief or sadness, Hermes could not tell.

“Well then, Hermes… Goodbye. And thank you,” she said simply. And without waiting for a response, she turned and ran.

Only Hermes and the boy – Orpheus – remained. Hermes looked down at the sleeping child and pitied him for the hard life he now had to live. While he wouldn’t die of starvation or disease, like he might have if he stayed with his parents, he would live with the fact that he was an unwanted and abandoned child of the gods, raised on the border of Hadestown, by the messenger of the gods.

Hermes sighed, and shifted Orpheus in his arms to make the baby more comfortable.

“Well, Orpheus,” he whispered to the sleeping boy. “You may have a hard life ahead of you, but hopefully you’ll make something out of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> It’s mentioned in the play that Orpheus’ mother is one of the nine Muses, which is consistent with the existing mythology (both Calliope and Polyhymnia are listed as possible mothers, with Calliope as the most popular choice). Apollo is often listed as his father, but as it’s only one of many options that are presented by the clusterfuck that is Greek mythology, I’ve elected to ignore it for one reason: both Calliope and Apollo are gods, which means that Orpheus would also be a god, and therefore immortal. Thankfully, there was another option for Orpheus’ father: the Thracian king Oeagrus, who I’ve listed as his father in this fic. 
> 
> This was an idea that just popped into my head, and I whipped this fic out. I'll probably write a sequel to this showing Hermes being the chaos father/uncle that he is. And ironically, Hermes is his canonical uncle (since the Muses are daughters of Zeus, who is also Hermes' father). I may hand-wave a lot of the family tree stuff later, but Hermes being Orpheus' uncle seemed like a pretty interesting idea to explore.


End file.
